The Power of Coffee
by beansprout1997
Summary: Grace is there when New York goes to hell, and she'll be damned if half the city being leveled stops her from doing her job. Captain America / OC, mild violence nothing serious (maybe a few swears, bad habit). Please read and Review, let me know what you think!
1. New York Goes to Hell

Grace wasn't a particularly extraordinary girl. At least no more extraordinary than anybody else. She grew up in New York, in a cozy little neighborhood in Brooklyn with her parents. She hadn't spoken to them in a few years due to some... disagreements about her career choice, but she never let that slow her down. After picking up a job as a Barista (coffee maker) in a little diner in High School, she'd gone to college and gotten a degree in business management, before opening up her own little coffee shop on her 23rd birthday.

She'd always had this theory that coffee brought people together, you see. When she was little she would watch her dad get up before the sun, to get ready for work. He was a surgeon, and at the time it seemed he always had the morning shift. It fascinated her to no end to watch him make coffee in the morning, the smell becoming familiar and comforting to her. He would drink it black, then he would make another cup, pour it into his travel mug and scoot off in his car. A couple hours later (at a bearable time of day she said) her mother would descend the stairs and pour herself a third of a cup of coffee, then fill the rest up with cold milk. She would then laboriously shovel in four tea spoons of sugar. Grace always wrinkled her nose when her mama made coffee. If you could call it that. She much preferred the look and smell of her dads black concoction to the cold dishwater her mum drank.

She had been in her job at the diner for 6 days, when a motley crew of firemen had come in, heads down, smelling of smoke. It wasn't hard to tell that the job that day had not bean easy. She poured each of those men coffee for hours, and listened as they recounted the tale of an electric fire in a little rundown house on the edge of city. None of the family made it out alive despite the team's best effort. It was one AM before any of them left, but they all left with belly's full of coffee and good food, and their spirits a little higher. Grace had done everything in her power to make sure that diner was a home for them on such a harrowing night, and she had personally thanked each of the firemen for the service they did this city, and the lives they saved each day. They came back countless times before she left the diner at 19. She had seen them and hundreds of others go through the lowest times and celebrate their victories in that diner, and she made sure they always did it with a cup of coffee in hand, because it was sometimes the only comfort she could give them. When she left she got a card signed by the whole team and a huge box of chocolates, and she just knew that a coffee shop was her path in life. She never wanted to miss an opportunity to meet people like that.

So after college, she took out loans and worked her butt off until 'Grace's Home Comforts' was born. It was difficult at times, and she worked every day of the week to get it off the ground. She had a dedicated staff of two at the moment; Chris Doveland (just Dove most of the time) and Elizabeth Kirk. They were more brother and sister to her than employees, and Grace suspected that was what made people want to come in to her shop. The atmosphere was home-y and comforting, and everyone was like family. In the land full of Starbucks and other faceless brand coffee shops, Grace had always thought that New York needed a little home-iness to it.

On the first anniversary of the shop opening, all hell broke loose. It was a quiet Sunday, and she was in alone save a few handfuls of customers, ten people at most. The radio lazily pushed out music into the warm and still air, until a burst of static made grace turn toward it. A reporter then ruined what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday for her with the words 'Breaking news'. There were calls to stay indoors and hide under tables, take cover wherever you were, because New York was going to hell. There were no details on what was happening, but Grace got a full enough picture when what appeared to be an armored alien crashed through her front window and broke three of her tables. She had long since put her customers into the shop basement, but had snuck back up to the front of shop to try and get a phone call out. She watched with horror as the thing stood up quickly and rounded on her, technical and sci-fi looking gun in hand. It took a step towards her when something hit it hard, in the back of the head and an audible crack sent it flying to the ground, where it didn't get back up. She lifted her gaze to none other than Captain America as he made his way further into the shop. She was sure he was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears, and she couldn't take her eyes off the alien on the floor, and the scuffed shield laying near it's head. She felt his hands grab her shoulders and turn her to face him, and finally registered his speech.

"Ma'am, are you hurt?" He said, squeezing her shoulders.

"No, I-I'm fine" She managed in a shaky voice. She swallowed thickly and turned her head to the window to get a look outside, when her day got worse. There was another thing there, aiming a spear at the Captains head. It looked sharp. Shit. Before he had a chance to see it coming, the alien had launched it at him with all the strength it had, and Grace made an unexpected move. She used both hands to launch the Captain backwards, and thankfully she succeeded as she watch him stumble a few steps back. The move had been risky, but she hadn't even realised she'd done it until the spear wedged itself into the wall, millimeters in front of her nose. She stared at the blade with wide eyes, unable to move until she registered he was shouting at her. When she could finally tear her gaze away, the star spangled man with a plan had killed the offending alien and two more that followed it in. He was beckoning her to follow him, and she did without another thought. She could only hope her customers would be safe as she and the Captain slowly made their way out onto the deserted street, sounds of gunfire and animalistic roaring in the distance. She stuck close behind him and his shield as he navigated the streets, alarmingly getting closer to the sounds. They both heard the approaching footsteps at the same time, and the Captain put a finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet as he shoved her into an alley way and disappeared around the corner. She strained her ears, and heard grunting and panting. Grace could only pray that he would be alright. Little did she know that she had her own problems to deal with at that moment in time.

She wasn't aware of the Chitauri soldier behind her until it let loose a horrible sound, presumably a war cry and raised its weapon- another spear. Several curses flew through the air as Grace realised what was about to happen and she scrambled to find any weapon. She squeaked and dodged as quickly as she could as the alien thrust it's blade at her, seemingly taking pleasure in her helplessness. At one point she fell (rather hard) onto her butt and her hand hit something cold and hard. She realised it was a length of thin pipe, about 2 foot long and heavy. Also her only option at that point. She prayed that the Captain hadn't forgotten about her as she closed her eyes and swung at the creature. She heard a clang and threw her eyes open to see that the pipe had hit off of the aliens sword, and it had paused in something like surprise. Seeing an opportunity in its apparent shock, she rushed forward and hit the pipe off the things head, dead on the center. Pain rushed up both of her arms at the force of the collision but unfortunately, it had no effect on the grotesque being before her. In answer to her pipe bashing, it raised it's spear, let loose a battle cry and leapt forward. Every muscle in Grace's body froze, and she couldn't even bring herself to flinch. The Chitauri soldier was in midair when the tables were turned and it was abruptly yanked backwards, thrown on the ground and 'eliminated' by Captain America. As he stood he looked her over, raising an eyebrow at her pipe. She vaguely noticed his cowl was missing, and she could see his face, but she couldn't bring herself to care at that point.

"Are you alright ma'am? Why didn't you yell?" He said approaching her carefully, a slightly baffled look on his handsome face. "I was busy! You were busy!" She answered, waving the pipe. He shook his head, not even trying to understand, when she noticed he was covered in dust and grime. "What happened? Where did you go?" She asked frantically searching him for obvious injury.

"There was a group of hostages in the bank next door, and a lot of Chitauri. Got them all out, took them all down" he said simply, "then came back for you". She nodded, understanding that now really wasn't the time for questions; she could hear his earpiece screaming at him to get back into the fight. Whatever was happening, they needed his help and badly. "Come on" he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him and the shield that had saved countless lives, "We're moving". And so they stepped back out onto the street, walking quickly to what Grace recognized was a kind of perimeter way off in the distance, She tried to convince herself that when she was beyond that line, she would be safe. A round of gunfire went off somewhere behind her however, and a searing pain ripping through her shoulder and chest cut off that thought. She didn't really have time to look at what hurt before the Captain whipped the shield at the offender snapping his neck. Her eyes widened as she looked on towards another three, attacking form their left. "Uh... Captain!" She said loudly from her position, gesturing to the armed group. The shield was soon enough flying in their direction, but before it made contact, what appeared to be an arrow wedged itself into the center Chitauri's chest and exploded, taking out the group before it had the chance to harm them. After collecting his shield, the Captain turned around and shouted his thanks to someone named 'Barton' in the building somewhere above her.

She couldn't really follow the conversation they had then, as she was getting a bit woozy. She put it down to shock and did her best anyway. She caught the jist; "Cap get your little friend up here, you're never going to get her to the perimeter in time and she's injured! I'll protect her here till it's over" She heard the disembodied voice shout above her. At the word injured she had become confused, and the Captain's head had whipped around so he could see her. His eyes widened, but she couldn't understand why; she hadn't been injured at all. However the wooziness was worsening, and she was struggling to remain upright at the moment. Suddenly Captain America's arm was around her waist holding her steady, and Grace dimly realised that Elizabeth would freak when she heard about this- she was the man's biggest fan. She was aware that they were moving then, more like she was being carried by the super soldier up stairs. Lots of them. Soon they reached what appeared to be offices that had been abandoned in the panic, and she felt herself get set down against a wall. She looked blearily into the concerned eyes of Captain America as he tried to assess her state of health, and gave a big and goofy smile. From somewhere to her right she heard a chuckle, and realised dimly that it must be 'Barton'.

"Go Cap, she'll be fine" She heard the voice say, and she nodded in agreement, lazily gesturing with her hands for him to go, because at that moment in time her throat was dry, and she couldn't find her voice. The last she remembered before falling unconscious was the Captain leaning down and murmuring to her "You'll be alright, when this is done we'll get you out of here safe and sound", then watching him walk away, her last conscious thought being that he had a nice ass. She was smiling as she slipped into the darkness.

 **So this was just an idea that popped into my head, a bit random really. It's set towards the end of the first Avenger's movie as you can probably tell, and in the next chapter there will be more interaction between Steve and Grace, as well as the other Avengers! If you love it let me know (** _review_ **), if you hate it, tell me why! I'd love to hear from you. Until next time :)**


	2. Heartbeat

**The reviews for this story have been really cute, and I love that you liked the first chapter! So without further ado- here's another :)**

* * *

She wasn't particularly aware of being conscious until she heard a door slam, and somebody sitting down roughly on what sounded like a plastic chair. Her eyes were still closed, but she didn't really know why since she couldn't remember falling asleep. Grace began squinting through her lashes, trying to wake up, but her mind was hazy and it was difficult. Lights somewhere above her blurred her limited vision, and off to the sides of her peripheral vision faded out into darkness. She tried harder to dig herself out of the comatose state she appeared to be in, and made a little bit of progress as sound filtered back into her world to some extent. She could hear a steady beeping, and somebody shuffling about in the invisible world to her right. Slowly her senses caught up with her mind, and she recognized the sound. How could she not? She was a surgeon's daughter after all. She was in a hospital.

Grace managed to wrench her eyes open far enough to see properly although her vision was still blurred and she began to recognize what was happening. She was coming around from surgery... flickering images of the appendectomy she had when she was 13 filled her mind with a strange nostalgia as she tried to work out why she would need surgery now. She parted her lips and attempted to make a noise but found her throat as baron and dry as the Sahara. Apparently whoever was in the room heard her non-existent noise, because she heard a heavy sigh and a man came into her line of sight. Bleary at first but fast coming into focus, the man's face appeared to be frowning as he appraised her. Wasn't this the point in the movies where her visitor handed her water and cried with relief because she was okay? Grace sobered quickly from her drug induced fog as she realised why she wasn't being given the same treatment as the movie stars- the man above her was her dad; Dr. Jeremiah Flint. She licked her lips and forced her vocal chords to co operate with the lack of fluids.

"Hello Dad" She managed, her voice gravelly and quiet. His frown deepened. "Grace" was all the answer she got.

He stepped out of her line of vision, and while she struggled to sit up and see, she registered the sounds of his shoes on the tiled floor- hard soled as always. She opened her mouth to ask how he had been, having not spoken to him since she left for college more than five years ago, but he beat her to the punch.

"You know this would never have happened if you'd have moved with your mother and I to Massachusetts. Nothing ever happens in Massachusetts!" He thundered, clearly not feeling much sympathy for his daughter at this point. Grace could only roll her eyes and wait out his temper tantrum; she'd had plenty of practice.

He continued on about how Massachusetts was home to one of the greatest learning facilities of our time- he was of course referring to Harvard Law and Medical schools. How she had been an idiot to turn away from that in favor of some shabby 'business' degree, and even worse to open a rundown and frankly 'pathetic' coffee shop in the middle of a dirty city like New York. That's as far as he got into his rant, as at that moment the door swung open to reveal a rather pissed off looking American soldier. Or rather _The_ American Soldier. Captain Steven Grant Rogers had evidently heard enough of their conversation through the door to look like thunder personified. Grace could only watch through tear filled eyes as the all American man stepped into the room, a beautiful bunch of flowers in one hand, the other making a fist, staring down her dad as if he were dirt. Dr. Flint at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

"There's a lot of things I'd like to say to you right now sir" He said through gritted teeth, a vein visibly pulsing in his neck, "But there is a lady present, and I don't think that this is what she needs right now. So I will politely ask you to leave". She gulped as she heard the steel to his voice, and hoped she'd never be on the receiving end of it. Her father flushed a deep scarlet, almost purple. He shot her a look that told her this wasn't finished before he ducked past the super soldier and scurried away. The tension in Steve's body disappeared for now, and he stepped fully into the room, meeting Grace's plain hazel eyes for the first time that day.

He shot her a half smile and rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his free and while the door closed. "Hi" He began quietly.

"Uh... Hi?" She shot back, not really sure what she should be doing. Was it customary for heroes to individually visit the people they saved? He held out the hand holding the flowers to her and she blushed as she took them into her arms. She recognized them vaguely, a smaller variety of Lilly in a fiery red colour.

"Amazing..." she breathed, then cleared her throat in preparation for more speech before she could re-hydrate; "Thank you so much Captain" She managed with a smile, her voice strained and weak. She lifted a hand to her throat and flinched, it was as if someone had shoved sandpaper down there or something. She watched him as he rounded her bed to a table sat to her right and thanked the lords as he immediately began pouring her a glass of water. He popped a straw in it and handed it to her carefully. She could not have been more grateful as she gulped it down, feeling her tissue re-hydrate and come alive again.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, eyes scrutinizing the beeping machine she was attached to at the moment. Of course the beeping sped up a little as Grace realised that Captain Freaking America was listening intently to her heart beat, and this brought his full attention to her. She blushed a pretty rose colour as she answered; "F-fine actually... well not fine, I'm a bit" she paused to move her hands, as if physically trying to find the word she wanted. It rather fascinated Steve. She paused suddenly in her searching and looked down, eyes taking on a look of recognition."My chest hurts" She uttered, and it dawned on Steve that she probably had no idea what had happened. She had been in shock and barely conscious last he'd seen her.

"I got shot, didn't I?"

The super soldier said the first thing that came to mind;

"Twice".

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 **Cutting this chapter a little short so I can do the main body of the conversation between them and get some stuff happening next chapter :) So you got a picture of Grace's relationship with her dad there, as well as an indication of Steve's rage when you don't remember your manners. I hadn't intended him to come out quite as aggressive as he did, but I liked it. As always I hope you enjoyed that chapter- however short (Don't shoot me)!**

 ** _Please review as it helps tons to keep me motivated, and motivated= more chapters! Hopefully coming to you soon :)_**

CrazyCountryGirl12- please don't ever loose that enthusiasm, that was fantastic to read as a review!

JustADork, GraceSong and HawaiianChick12- thank you so much for your support!

 **Thanks for reading! xxxx**


	3. The Nurse Ships It

The super soldier blushed profusely, realizing he'd been a bit blunt. He should probably have broken that fact to her gently, but to her credit she was taking it well. She blinked those pretty eyes a few times before looking up at him and nodding, mouth set in a grim line. And just like that, she had accepted her battle wounds. It confounded Steve, how could she be so calm? The man he presumed had been her father had come in here and torn her to shreds minutes after waking up from major surgery, then he had told her out right that she'd been shot twice, and she just...blinked and nodded. He watched her small hands tug at the neck of her hospital gown and pull it down slightly to reveal gauze and bandages covering the majority of her right collar bone and the top of her chest.

"Was it- you know, bad?" she asked, more curious than frightened. Once again, the tone of the question more than the question itself threw Steve, but he recovered quickly. "Uh, I was just speaking to a nurse outside before I came in. She said one hit closer to your shoulder, and one just under your collar bone, more towards the middle" He started, before coming to take a seat near her head. She looked fascinated as he continued; "the one in your shoulder went right through and came out the other side, very little damage done. But while the other one missed all the major organs and arteries, it wasn't a through and through, and you lost quite a lot of blood". He looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap as he finished, his voice much smaller than it had been when he started. Guilt boiled low and sour at the pit of his stomach for letting her get shot. He had been right there, and he was responsible- he should have protected her better.

He jumped in surprise as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see her having half climbed out of bed. Her feet were just touching the ground (it being a high bed, and her being a little on the shorter side), and she appeared to be trying to wiggle herself fully onto the floor, but struggling due to the wires that were attached to the other side of the bed. She had one hand on his shoulder, and the other was braced on the bed so she could keep some semblance of balance His eyes widened in shock and he stood abruptly, his hands flying to her waist to steady her.

"Ma'am wha-" He started in a panic, but was cut off by a rather grumpy voice; "My name is Grace, not Ma'am, and I'm fine. The bullet wounds are not in my legs, so I can stand. Now lets address the next issue shall we?" And really what could Steve do when she placed her other hand on his other shoulder and turned him to face her fully, looking into his eyes and demanding his full attention?

"This" she said, glancing down to her chest briefly, "Was not your fault. A war flattened half of New York and friggin' aliens were running around with guns and pointy sticks. You saved thousands of lives, including mine. You think I would have gotten out of that shop alive if you hadn't showed up?"

Oh, she wanted an answer apparently. The stunned man could only shake his head. She was tiny, she was injured and she was talking to him like he was a child that needed to be taught a lesson. Where did this dame come form?

"Exactly. So stop looking sad, and keeping your head down. You- Captain America- saved my life. And this is the weirdest thank you I could give to you" She finished, panting a little at the effort. Evidently being shot in the chest twice, or more specifically the drugs to dull the pain of those shots- did affect her legs. He could only smile and shake his head as he gently lifted back into the bed (against quiet protest that she was alright).

"I'm sorry Ma'am- uh Grace" He corrected with a sheepish smile, "I haven't properly introduced myself." He cleared his throat and held out his large and warm hand for her to shake. "Captain Steven Grant Rogers, at your service". Both of them blushed from head to toe as their hands wrapped around each others and they held on for entirely too long. "Grace Flint, coffee shop owner and barista who owes you a bevridge on the house" She shot back with a smile. They both gave a little laugh and broke into a comfortable silence under the florescent lights and consistent beep of the heart monitor. Steve could only marvel at the girl before him, so brave and confident now. He had seen hundreds of soldiers, with years of training and experience of war be broken by bullets. Seeing things that ripped apart their minds and feeling things that ripped apart their bodies. Grace had no buffer of training, and Steve guessed from her admission that she owned a coffee shop that she had no experience of a war zone. Yet here she was, battle wounds and all, smiling and laughing with him.

A thought struck him suddenly then, and he felt compelled to share it with her. "You know, you remind me of someone", he uttered into the quiet air, gently grabbing her attention again. She looked surprised, her eyebrows hiking up her forehead. "Who?" Steve chuckled at her facial expression, and answered with another question. "How much do you know about Captain America's history?".

She sheepishly confessed that she didn't know a lot about him, other than the fact that he was a hero in World War II, and that somehow he had come to be in the 21st century as well. "I had enlisted a half a dozen times in the army before someone accepted me, because I was underweight and severely asthmatic. 90 lbs soaking wet" He began, ignoring her disbelieving look at the words 90 lbs. He smiled and kept going; "Then I was put into training and given a serum to change my body. I got bigger and stronger quickly, and with that came accelerated healing and stuff like that. You remind me of me pre-serum. Yesterday you pushed me out of the way of an airborne spear and tried to beat an armed alien with a lead pipe. You didn't have any powers or armor, but you were still helping and fighting. Back then that was all I could do" he finished, eyes filled with nostalgia as footage of his life flitted past his mind's eye. She smiled big and bright, cheeks flushed pink and eyes sparkling.

"I believe that that was the most sincere and genuine compliment I've ever had. Thank you".

The hulking super soldier smiled right back, and they began to chat amicably about themselves. She found out he liked sketching, and liked finding out about new technology (contrary to popular belief, he could work his phone and laptop just fine thank you). She explained to him about "Grace's Home Comforts" and was mid-through an explanation of why he had to come and meet Elizabeth when the nurse knocked on the door and came in. She was a friendly looking woman, with graying hair and crinkly eyes, but she was a stark reminder that Grace was in hospital- a fact that had tumbled to the back of her mind long ago. She shot them a smile as she checked on her chart, re-arranged her sheets and checked her dressings. All the while Grace tried not to giggle and Steve tried to control the blush on his face, which he couldn't explain.

"I'm sorry to have to say visiting hours were over 20 minutes ago. I gave you as much time as I could but you have to go home sometime" She said kindly patting him on the shoulder. The blush intensified. He cleared his throat an stood, shuffling awkwardly past the nice nurse towards the door, but he stopped before he left. The nurse turned around and poured some water, and pretended she wasn't listening to the conversation like she had been fr the last twenty minutes through the door. She had to get her kicks somewhere.

"I really enjoyed talking to you today Grace" He said, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. She smiled and nodded her agreement.

He half turned around, then turned back, blush at maximum capacity. "W-would you mind if I came back tomorrow?"He asked, far more uncertain than he was sure a world renound super hero should be. She let out a little giggle and the nurse inwardly squealed; she _totally_ shipped it. "I wouldn't have it any other way Captain". He smiled and scooted out the door, the tips of his ears a teaming crimson colour, but happier than he'd felt in a while.

* * *

It was later than he'd expected when he finally got home at around 8 O'clock. He had walked for a bit then taken the subway, getting weird looks off of women the whole way. He sometimes thought that they looked terrifying when they gave him what Tony had informed him was called 'bedroom eyes'. They fluttered their heavily made up eyes and pouted their big painted lips and it was all made more obvious by their gleaming orange fake tan... the thoughts brought shudders to his spine. As he threw his keys on the side table and made his way to the kitchen, his thoughts drifted to Grace and her perfectly plain eyes. He'd seen her today after surgery, with no makeup on and her hair was definitely doing a 'thing'. But her greeny browny hazel eyes had been pretty on their own, and her lips...

He was snapped from his train of thought as the scalding hot coffee he's been pouring himself trickled onto his hand. He stared at it a moment and laughed before cleaning it up. He looked forward to tomorrow as he sat down to drink his coffee and watch some TV, thoughts of Grace still lingering in his mind.

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 **COMPETITION- There will be a pet introduced in the next chapter and he needs a name! Please PM me ideas, the winner gets a mention and a virtual cookie :)**

 **SO yes another chapter! I don't know what happened, there was so much blushing! That nurse is actually my favorite character; she ships it and Steve and Grace are her OTP! And Steve is so impressed by Grace attempting to take down an alien with a pipe, it sooo cute! More to come soon.**

 **HawaiianChick12: I laughed more than I shoud've at that...**

 **CrazyCountryGirl12:I love it when you review, I get all the fuzzies 'bout my writing :3**

 **WXCKEDisgood: aww thanks Doll :) I appreciate it!**

 **As always I hope you enjoyed, and that you review! Constructive criticism is good, but I'm not gunna lie- I looooove the praise as well!**

 **Thanks for reading! xxx**


	4. Sally's

The next day, Steve awoke to pounding rain beating down on a half demolished city, and flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky. He rolled his eyes and crawled straight out of bed to the coffee machine that Stark had given him as a house warming gift when he'd found this little apartment in Manhattan. It had become a habit he wasn't going to break any time soon. Normally he would wake up, caffinate, then go for a run. Then he'd either have work to do with S.H.E.I.L.D or he'd have a city to see. But as Steve sipped his dark coffee and looked out the window, he decided today was not a day for going on a run or for walking round the city. Uh uh. He did however have a certain girl to go and see. A smile lit up his sleepy face at the thought, a dusky blush coloring his cheeks. He let his mind drift to what they might talk to today, he thought he might tell her more about the Howling Commandos, Bucky and Peggy. Steve couldn't really talk to anyone about Peggy because everyone knew about her and her legacy, and assumed that he must be utterly heartbroken over her.

Steve would always, _always_ love Peggy. How could he not? She was his spitfire, she saw him when he was still just Steve, when no one thought he could be a soldier let alone Captain America. But what people sometimes forgot is that he and Peggy never actually happened. For all the time he knew her, Peggy was one of his best friends- second only to Bucky. They played this game almost... they flirted and fell in love, but both of them left it too late. When Steve was hurling a Hydra Bomber plane into a field of ice, his last thought was something along the lines of how he never did get to dance with her. And now that felt like a million miles away, hundreds of years ago. Another life. In some ways it was. He had missed his shot with Peggy, and she would always be his first love and the one who got away, but he knew she would kill him if she thought he was holding back in this new life because of her. So he was open to a new relationship- to happiness, because he owed her that. He owed himself that at least, after losing everything.

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He was still smiling as he finished his cup and went to shower, thoughts of Peggy and Grace dancing around his mind. 20 minutes later he was clean and changed (a white t-shirt, his tan trousers and brown boots, topped of with his brown leather jacket), when it occurred to him that he probably shouldn't take his motorbike on a day like this. So the super soldier hesitantly dipped his hand into the bowl by his door and retrieved his car keys. He was never a fan of cars, not when his bike gave him so much freedom, but he did have one in the garage downstairs, yet another gift from Stark. It wasn't really Steve's style- it was big and luxurious looking, sleek black paint polished to perfection. But it would have to do.

And so off he set on his way to the hospital. Thunder shook his windows and lightning ripped up the sky the whole way there, and Steve briefly wondered if Thor was on Earth and in a bad mood. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was actually a common occurrence. He chuckled as he parked, then took a deep breath as he leapt from his seat, slammed the door and sprinted to the door way, trying not to get soaked but not really succeeding. Apparently it was entertaining to see though, if the giggling woman standing by the door, smoking under an umbrella was anything to go by. Steve gave a sheepish smile and ducked inside, thankful to be out of the down pour. He briefly looked over his shoulder at the woman as she stubbed out her cigarette, but whipped his head around when he collided with someone. Grace let loose more than one four letter word as she tried to keep her balance, until Steve's hands were on her shoulders, steadying her.

"Grace?" she heard, and for the first time she looked up to see it was Steve Rogers she had walked into while she was texting Elizabeth. "Steve" She breathed in surprise, her dark mood and aching shoulder suddenly forgotten. She had quite forgotten that Captain America had booked a visit today. She flushed scarlet and tried to cover her chest with crossed arms- she was wearing the only clothes she had with her, which were the clothes she got shot in. A flimsy blue t-shirt and jeans, neon orange flip flops and thankfully a navy blue hoodie that she had had around her waist, so it didn't have blood on it. It was however very hard to ignore the blood and bullet holes that still marred her t shirt. If she was reading Steve's face correctly then he had already seen. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked urgently, snapping her from her thoughts. "I just discharged myself" She stated plainly, "I'm going home". She shrugged Steve's big hands off her shoulders and took a step towards the door, but was stopped by the fallen hand finding purchase on her elbow.

"That's crazy! You got shot, _twice_ , and had major surgery the day before yesterday!" Steve couldn't believe the little woman in front of him. She narrowed her pretty eyes at him and pressed her lips into a line, then pulled an unexpected move on him; she ripped her arm from his grasp and grabbed his wrist, then proceeded to drag him outside into the heaving rain. She smiled as the shock of very cold water changed Steve's facial expression comically. "The bed I was taking up can be put to good use now, they can give it to someone who actually needs it! Put that together with the fact that my dad works at this hospital and we are not 'simpatico' at the moment" She inwardly laughed at quoting tangled- "I was not going to hang around. I need to get back to the shop and the apartment, Elizabeth said she left my dog with Mrs. Fitzgerald and she's old so I've got to-" Steve held up a soggy hand and silenced the rambling. "Okay, okay I get it. Having met your dad I can see where you're coming from with that" He said loudly, striving to be heard over the rain, "but that bed was being put to plenty good use with you in it. So if you insist on leaving you're going to need someone to look after you, and you're going to need to let me drive you" He finished. At this point the rain was so heavy that both of them were soaked through, and blinking water out of their eyes. Grace thought hard for a moment before shouting over the crack of thunder and the pelting of rain "Deal- but you need to buy me coffee first. I couldn't choke down the dirt water they got in there".

* * *

Twenty minutes later they were both sat with mugs of what Grace referred to as 'honest coffee' in a diner Steve had never heard of, but where everyone knew who Grace atmosphere was warm and cheerful, until a group of burly fire fighters came in. Then the atmosphere was loud and filled with laughter as they each in turn came and gave Grace a hug. One even picked her up in a bear hug and swung her round until she managed to get out that she'd been shot and that this was a no-no. Steve had sat quietly outside of the festivities drinking his coffee and watching, not wanting to intrude. So he was surprised when he heard Grace shout his name loudly, then dragged him right into the middle of it. He was introduced to each and every person by name, and got smiles, slaps on the back, handshakes and even a few bear hugs of his own. He didn't really know what to make of it before Grace began to tell him stories of the brave firefighters of New York, and how they'd been coming here for good coffee for years. They stayed and chatted for half an hour before Grace finally proclaimed that she was caffeinated enough to go home now. The owner of the diner pressed two paper bag into her hands before she left; "some pastries for you and your boy, on the house" he said with a crinkly smile, "don't be a stranger".

Steve was already resigned to the fact that he would have to come back to that diner, with good coffee and food and people. Grace had told him that when she couldn't have her own coffee, or when she felt like she wanted a taste of home- Sally's was where she went. 'Sally' himself had been more of a dad to her than her father was, that was for sure. She told Steve all this on the ride their and on the way to her shop- how Sally had taught her everything she knew about coffee and business, and inspired her to get a degree and open her own shop. She told him how coffee was her theory of everything, how it would re-build New York. Steve told her about the first cup of coffee he ever had, and laughed when she wrinkled her nose at the word 'instant'. He told her about the cold watery coffee they had at the training camp after he became a soldier and the richer stuff they had at Stark Tower and the coffee machine he had at his apartment. Her eyes lit up when he told her that he really hadn't had a chance to figure out what all the nozzles and buttons were for, and she promised him a lesson in good home brewing.

* * *

Before they knew it, Steve had pulled up in front of 'Grace's home comforts', and the atmosphere between them sobered as they took in the broken shop front. They stepped out of the car quietly, and Grace unlocked the door and shoved it open, despite the gaping hole she could have gone through. On the whole, the damage could have been much, much worse. Aside from the smashed window, there were a few broken tables from where that alien had landed, and broken cups and plates from where customers had gotten up and ran. Both she and Steve raised an eyebrow and smiled ruefully at the Chituari spear still lodged in the wall. Grace made her way behind the counter and flipped the lights on, illuminating the half busted shop. What she saw next brought tears to her eyes, harsh and stinging. She had bought the cash register for her beloved shop in an old vintage market for $100.00. It had been well looked after and maintained since it's creation in the 40's, and the only reason she got it so cheap was that the man who sold it to her got free coffee for as long as he lived. She smiled through her tears as she remembered the lovely man who still came in for his plain black brew. Now her boot, her cash register lay bashed open, all her cash gone. She had heard that some sick people out there had used the invasion as an opportunity to loot and steal, but she didn't think for a second that it would happen to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose hard, hoping to stop the tears, but a few stubborn droplets still found their way through. She felt a large, warm hand settle on her shoulder, and Steve's voice just behind her; "oh Grace, I'm so sorry". It was quiet and sad, but also exactly the comfort she needed just then. She sniffed and turned around all set to tell him she was fine, that it would be okay, but didn't get a chance because Steve's arms were around her in a hug. He tucked her head under his chin and held her while she let a few more rebellious tears fly away from her eyes. She thought he smelled a bit like soap, and fresh sheets, while he could smell coffee and muffins from her hair.

Eventually they parted, both blushing like teenagers. Grace smiled and thanked him for being here, and he just blushed worse. "My apartment's upstairs, if you'd like to come up. I can make you real coffee then" She said, eyes daring him to turn her down. He only chuckled and nodded, silently telling her to lead the way. They walked up a narrow set of stairs at the back of the shops, their foot fall echoing against old stone walls all the way to the top. Grace fished for her keys in her jeans and let them in, having to shove against the door heavily. "It''s old, it sticks a lot" She replied to his questioning look. He didn't know what he expected to find in her apartment, but it wasn't this. Upon entering he was hit with the smell of candles and old books, with undertones of (you guessed it) coffee. The door opened directly into the living room, where there was no TV which Steve found refreshing. It was instead lined with shelves, filled with books and ornaments and a few potted plants. There was a huge three seater couch to one side, the big squishy comfy kind, and two old and worn green leather chairs to the other. Between them was an ornate looking coffee table littered with magazines and mugs. Steve's blue eyes drank in every detail of the room, and he loved it. It was messy, but in that organized way he never seemed to be able to achieve, and the books... being a sickly child, sometimes books were all Steve had- the characters his friends and teachers. He loved to read.

"Sorry it's a little messy" She said, fussing over the coffee table. "It's perfect" He said without thinking. Both of them blushed, and she muttered a quiet 'thank you', leading the way to the adjoining kitchen. She explained on the way that Elizabeth had decorated her kitchen, and it might take a little getting used to. It was the understatement of the century. Upon coming through the doorway, the soldier was met with glaring whites, blacks and reds, everywhere. The floor was black and white tiled with a furry red round rug thrown on top, records were stapled to one wall, on another Polaroids and pictures of what Steve assumed was Grace's whole life were plastered everywhere. He stared at it for a moment before moving on, to the huge green oven and the spotless and high tech looking coffee maker on the white marble counter. Nothing matched and it looked awful. But at the same time, it looked very homey. There were about 4 million different mugs hanging on hooks and sitting on shelves, each one different and with it's own story. There was a dog's bed in the corner, with a very used looking Iron Man chew toy on it. _That_ made him smile.

"Pick your cup" She said from somewhere inside a cupboard, evidently trying to find something. He looked around, his eyes gliding over the different sizes, shapes and colours until one caught his attention. It was short, round and fat, pale blue with little cartoon Narwhals on it. He lifted it off the shelf and decided it was as weird as he is, so he may as well choose that one. "Good choice" He heard just from his right. He looked round to see that she had retrieved a huge bag of coffee beans. "Smell this" She said, shoving the bag under his nose. Frankly he was too scared to say no, so he followed his orders. Rich and smoky were the first words that came to mind, and he told her so. She smiled before spending the next ten minutes showing how to grind coffee, then make it into a drink 'worth drinking' in her words. She was like a mad scientist, pouring and heating and steaming and filtering until two cups of coffee with just the right amount of foam on top were presented. He tried to reach for it, but earned a small slap on the hand and a "wait wait wait" before she dove into another cupboard. She pulled out a stencil and a cup of something and before fiddling with the mugs. When it was returned to him, the New York city skyline in coco powder stared up at him, and he smiled. "You're a talented woman" he said, gesturing to her cup. "Taste it and you'll find out the extent of that talent" She replied winking. Somehow he didn't doubt it.

"I'm gonna take a quick trip next door and get my dog back from Mrs. Fitzgerald, she'll go crazy if she has him much longer" she said standing up. "Take your coffee through the living room and make yourself at home if you like" He heard as she disappeared around the corner. He chuckled and picked up his cup, excited to meet the dog that chews on Tony Stark's head. One long sip later, Steven Grant Rogers learned the difference between the coffee that came out of the jar in his cupboard and real coffee. He doubted he would ever go back as he made his way through to her living room and the comfy looking couch. Seconds later the door opened and slammed shut, the sound of footsteps and paws drawing his attention to the door. What he assumed was the dog ran through to another room before he could see it, and Grace flopped on the couch next to him. "Is it a boy or a girl?" He asked curiously, sitting a little straighter and taking another sip or his drink. "Boy. Ferocious beast and very protective of me" she answered, eyes slipping closed. Paws could be heard again, and soon the dog appeared. His fur was the colour of ink, as were his eyes. He had sharp claws, and a cool demenour. That was until he hopped up onto Steve's lap and rolled onto his back, begging for him to rub is little pug tummy.

The brutal Super Soldier immediately melted and started playing with the pug, eventually asking what his name was.

"Irish" Grace said sleepily.

"Irish?" He asked, the dog licking his face.

"He's the shot of Irish whiskey in my coffee, he makes it interesting".

Of course she would name him after a coffee shot. Five minutes later she had fallen asleep, and Steve had carried her to her bed. Irish was cuddled up by her feet, as he pulled the covers up to her shoulders. He had removed her hoodie and flip flops, and made her as comfortable as possible before giving her a brief kiss on the forehead and closing the door. He was thankful there was nobody to see the violent blush that marred his face as he finished his heavenly coffee.

* * *

 **Weeeee :) Much longer chapter for you today, hope you like that! There was kind of a two way tie for the dog's name because two reviewers (CrazyCountryGirl12 & WXCKEDisgood) suggested 'Coffee' or different types of coffee for the dog's name . Congrats to you both, here are your virtual cookies and hugs **** .**

 **As always please review and let me know what you think, it is sooo important to me that you do! Thank you so much for reading, hope to see you again soon! xxxx**


	5. So much more blushing

Grace woke up to utter confusion given that she couldn't remember falling asleep or getting to bed. Someone was knocking on her door gently, so she had to put her befuddlement aside for a moment. She dragged herself from her warm bed, stripped and changed into shorts and a lose t- shirt, went through the living room to the front door. Then with a great deal of effort she managed to heave the old door open, setting her shoulder alight with pain. Without the buffer of pain killers, it stung like a bitch. She hissed and grabbed the wound, visitor completely forgotten until his hand took hold of her elbow to steady her. Upon contact her eyes flew up and drank in the sight of Captain America's concerned face.

"Morning", she said when she had recovered enough to let go and speak. He reluctantly released her arm and returned the greeting. She turned and made her way to the kitchen, leaving the door open in silent invitation. Steve quietly followed her, closing the door and removing his jacket on the way. As he stepped into the mismatched kitchen he caught sight of her flailing as she tried to reach a mug on a high shelf. (He noticed with some satisfaction that his narwhal mug was already out on the counter). He reached over the top of her brunette head and retrieved the mug with ease, pausing to inspect her choice; a massive white bowl shaped mug, covered in what looked to him like a soft purple water colour paint. It was inexplicably pretty, and perfect for her. Of course he was blushing as he set it down on the counter next to his own.

He chuckled as he watched Grace recreate the process of producing good coffee, taking the time to stencil onto the foam another design; a pretty six pointed star. "Thanks" he said , and it struck her that she'd never heard that single syllable uttered so genuinely. She must make better coffee than she thought. An ugly, nasal sound filled the silent room, and both the soldier and the barista turned to see Irish snoring on his back in the corner, absently pawing the air. "I bet he's dreaming of food" she said, watching his curly tail wag slowly side to side.

Without thinking Steve said "Well if you cook half as well as you make coffee I'm sure you'd have me dreaming of food too". For how often it was there, he thought the blush should just never leave his face, but he did notice she lit up a pretty pink as well. She snorted and laughed, righting herself before explaining that she could bake like a pro (she single handedly stocks the coffee shop with pastries), but at savory cooking she was a bust. Steve watched as her face darkened at the mention of the coffee shop downstairs, but didn't have time to comfort her before something new crossed onto her features. She jumped up- wincing a little as she jarred her shoulder. however she didn't pause in her efforts, and his blue eyes followed her as she opened a cupboard to reveal a fridge. (The all American man made a note to figure out how that worked later).

Seconds later she was back with a plate of clingfilm wrapped cookies. After tearing through the plastic she proudly offered him a golden circle, speckled chunks of amethyst. Of course after tasting the woman's coffee he didn't hesitate in picking one up. About the size of his palm, it smelled of good old fashioned cookie, mixed with whatever the chunks were... toffee? And there was something else... His eyes silently asked her what it was, but all Grace gave him in answer was a shrug; she would give away no secrets until he had tried it. And so he did. His mind, suffice to say, was blown. Flavours were flying at him from every direction- spiciness, sweetness, saltiness. He couldn't even begin to describe how right the texture was- it wasn't solid, but it wasn't gooey, it was firm and chewey. It was also the best cookie he'd ever had.

He didn't notice his eyes close in bliss, but when he opened them Grace was sat before him looking kind of nervous.

"Before you say anything" She began, cutting off Steve's compliment, "You're the first person ever to try these. It's a new recipe. I mean I-I think they're, you know, pretty good. But I need you to be 100% honest in your opinion of them, because if they're crap I can't serve them to customers! So... is there anything wrong with them?", she finished, biting at her pinky nail in anticipation.

"Well yeah" Steve answered seriously, watching her face fall. "There aren't enough of them!"

Her face lit up in relief and happiness, and she found herself joining him in cookie gorging. She finally divulged that they were her twist on the newly popular salted caramel flavor. The spice came from a ginger/cinnamon mix she added to compliment the sweetness and add depth to the saltiness. In all honesty, Steve didn't really know what that meant, but he was damn sure he needed more of those cookies.

* * *

After the last delectable biscuit had been demolished and they'd drained their coffee down to the dregs, they both sat back on the couch- completely at ease with each other despite only having met a few days ago. At some point an old radio had been put on, and the windows opened, so that the quiet music floated on the New York breeze.

Both the soldier and the barista were quite content to sit in the quiet air and sip more coffee for a while and forget everything that had happened. Eventually Steve turned to his host to ask about her extensive book collection, but before he could his eyes caught sight of her bandages slipping out from under the sleeve of the loose t-shirt she wore. She followed his gaze and immediately hiked the baggy bandages back up her shoulder, then grimaced at the pain she had caused herself. Of course almost immediately the bandages fell right back down. Growing exasperated with the situation she violently jerked them up to her shoulder and actually yelped at the fire that consumed the area.

Before she could do it again and seriously injure herself Steve grabbed hold of her wrist. Se struggled for a second before she sat back, deflated. Seeing that she wasn't going to try again he hesitantly released her wrist, fingers missing the contact as soon as they parted from her skin. A blush stained his cheeks as he spoke: "Do you... Well do you need h-help with re-dressing the uh, the wound?" he asked, eyes practically nailed to the coffee table.

She couldn't help but chuckle quietly, a hand ghosting over her mouth as if to muffle the pretty sound. She had been instructed by a nurse before she left to change the bandages daily but she just hadn't gotten round to it yet. Now that she really thought about it it did seem a difficult task to accomplish alone.

"Really?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. She hadn't known Steve long, and she had no intentions of letting him do everything for her. She didn't want him to feel like he had to do anything. She was just beginning to shake her head no when he said with a bit more resolution- "Really".

Looking up and seeing the sincerity in his eyes muted any doubt or agitation she had on the matter. It just didn't seem possible to say no to such a genuine desire to help. And so she found herself nodding, apparently struck dumb at the concept of Steve bandaging her wounds.

Without another word he stood and offered her his hand. He lead them to the bathroom, stopping briefly to pick up a stool from the kitchen and instructed her to sit facing away from him. Grace did as she was told, a knot forming in her stomach at the thought of what was to happen next. She would need to take her shirt off for him to be able to bandage it right.

Both of them were absolutely crimson as she deftly removed her head and her right arm from the fabric, electing to leave her left arm in it and draping it over her boobs. Steve took the initiative at this point and sought out the supplies he'd need from the medicine cabinet behind him. When that was done, he cleared his throat: "I...I'm just going to start taking the dressing off now". It was sweet how nervous he was, and she wasn't much better off. With deft fingers he undid the bindings, and because they were already loose the bandages fell away quickly. There was a layer of gauze underneath, taped into place so that it wouldn't slip.

After pealing that back there was a smaller square of gauze covering the individual bullet wound. spreading out from behind the white was an impressive bruise, purple at its edges and growing darker towards the wound. It looked brutal, and Steve was as gentle as he could be when he was removing the last layer. What he saw next made his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat. He had of course seen many bullet wounds in his day, but he has never seen one with a ring of luminous blue around it. If it hadn't have been for the brightness and intensity of the colour it could just have been bruising. But he recognized it as the same blue that had powered the Chitauri's weapons, the same blue that had caused untold destruction wherever it was seen. It was Tesseract blue.

* * *

A million thoughts raced through his mind- did it come from the bullets? Was it hurting her? Would it stop the wounds from healing? He was silent as he appraised the hole in her skin. After a few minutes where she couldn't feel him doing anything, Grace looked back at him. "Sorry is this too... weird?". Immediately Steve snapped out of his panic induced haze and looked at her. Doubt had flooded her pretty eyes, and she clearly felt bad for asking him to do this. He smiled, electing to find out more later- and said "I'll have you know ma'am I have cleaned out plenty of bullet wounds in my time and have no issue doing so just now". And with that he went about dressing and bandaging all the various injuries. The bruising was worse on the front so he was extremely careful, both in how he handled her and where he looked. She had a tshirt covering her but he was still a man after all.

Eventually he had it all wrapped up perfectly. He was clearly a man who took pride in his work, if the pristine appearance of the bandages were anything to go by. Her shoulder felt supported and a little more comfortable than it had before and she was grateful for that. She told him as much while he was politely looking away and she was putting her shirt back on. They made their way back to the living room as Grace told Steve more about Dove and Elizabeth. She had a phone call from them before she left the hospital. Dove had taken Elizabeth to stay with him at his family's farm in Idaho for the moment until they were sure it was safe to come back.

Normally Grace would have been mad that her only two employees had abandoned her but she had been waiting for those two to get together from the day she had introduced them. Maybe now it would finally happen. Steve smiled at her rambling about why they were perfect for each other, and he wished he had friends like that. Glancing at the clock, Grace turned to him and informed him that it was 12.00 O'clock and so she had to kick him out. Steve was taken aback for a second before he stood and started to collect himself to leave, not wanting to be an inconvenience.

"I promised myself I would get the store cleaned out today ready for repair men tomorrow, so we can be open for Monday!" She said, gesturing to the tool box sat next to her front door. _That_ caught his attention.


	6. Flying Profanities

Steve took a second to cast his blue eyes over the girl in front of him. Starting at the top, her hair was fluffy and disheveled from sleep, and there was a small bruise right on her hair line. Her hazel eyes held within them a fiery determination, her whole stance confident and ready to go. He could see however the outline of her bandages through her t-shirt, little scrapes and bruises everywhere. She was in no condition to clean out the shop. He made a mental note to himself to remember that no matter how badly injured she was, the girl had no capacity for sitting still or taking care of herself.

With that in mind he hoisted her impressively stocked tool box onto his shoulder and began to make his way down the stairs. Of course Grace slammed her door shut and followed him down protesting all the way that she didn't need any help, was perfectly capable of handling herself and her shop and that she was sure he had better things to do.

He nodded and agreed with everything that she said aside from the last point, which he addressed with a simple 'not today I don't'.

Grace huffed, crossing her arms and stomping down the last of the steps in mock anger, but her mood dampened considerably when they got to the bottom and surveyed the scene. It had started to drizzle outside, and the grey over cast sky did no favours for the place, which looked set to fall apart in the gloom. Broken glass littered the ground, and glinted in the pale light, and for a moment there was a silence that neither of them wanted to break. A moment to mourn what had been lost. Steve made a silent promise to himself to help her get it all back.

A heavy sigh broke into the air, and Grace stepped forward to wrench the spear out of the wall. "Catch" She said, throwing it to him. She laughed as his reflexes kicked in and he caught it expertly, eyes wide. With that the tension was broken, and they set to work clearing the mess. Grace turned on the radio and Elvis played while they laboured. It was actually fun, and the time passed quickly. That was until around 3 o'clock, when Grace's mother appeared in the broken window- scowling and carrying an umbrella.

* * *

Jail House Rock played quietly in the background, and other than that and the sound of rain there was silence. It took a second for her to remember she had a voice- she hadn't seen her mother for more than 5 years, and didn't have any desire to do so now. "Mom... Why are you here?" Grace threw out hesitantly. It was clear that Renee Flint was not going to speak first. Instead of giving a direct answer, the older woman wrinkled her nose and stepped out of sight, presumably to use the door to get in.

"Of course she wouldn't dane to use the massive gaping hole to get in, that would be beneath her" she mumbled, moving to unlock it for her. Steve gulped audibly- he had already seen the way her father spoke to her, and if he were to hazard a guess he would say that this meeting would end no differently. He tightened his grip on the broom that he held, and cleared the last of the glass from the door way, then Grace swung it open. Her mother stepped in, her practical black pumps clicked hard on the tile floor. She shook out her umbrella, spreading water droplets everywhere and then pushed it (still wet) into Grace's arms without a word.

Steve watched her flush red with annoyance, but she breathed deeply and placed the offending object on the counter. The two of them then turned to face Renee expectantly. She first looked around the shop, taking every detail into her calculating gaze, then Steve, then finally she turned to her daughter. Her deep blue eyes looked her up and down twice, her face somewhat neutral- skewing to dissatisfied.

"What have I told you about wearing your hair up Grace?" She finally uttered. At some point (during Suspicious Minds she thought) Grace had piled her hair on top of her head in a rather messy pineapple, to keep it out of the way. She now reached up and let it loose, shaking out the knots. "It really does nothing to help her face, or her ears. Her father's ears you see." The younger woman looked down at her ratty converse and flushed crimson for a whole new reason- the absolute mortification that was crashing over her.

"Hey now. If that's all you came to say then I think it best you leave. Now." Steve stepped forward, in front of the now quiet Grace. "And I think you should close your mouth and leave me to do business with my daughter. I'm sure there's other girls out there you can go and bother."

Oh the super soldier did not like this lady at all. A hand on his shoulder from behind was the only thing that stopped him from biting back at the woman before him. He grit his teeth and stepped back to let Grace come forward. The small woman crossed her arms over her tshirt- made damp from the umbrella, and waited patiently for her mother to speak again.

"I trust you spoke with your father" She said, running a finger along a shelf and collecting dust. "And I trust that he made our opinions about your way of life quite clear, yes?" She quipped, eyes flicking up to the name of the shop emblazened on the side of the counter. Without giving Grace a chance to answer, she continued; "Keeping that in mind. I have a proposition for you. Move back with us to Massachusetts, and we'll pay your Harvard tuition along with rent for an apartment of you choosing. You will have access to your inheritance money from your grandmother, and to the trust fund we set up for you when you were little. In exchange you give up this dump, and go into a field of work of your father's choosing, simple as that."

There was a snap and both women whipped there heads around to where Steve stood, half a broom in each hand. To his credit, he didn't say a word, but Grace feared his teeth would snap for how hard his jaw was clenched. He had flushed a deep red, and if looks could kill Renee would be buried right now.

Grace on the other hand went in another direction. Instead of getting mad, she looked dejected. Her shoulders slumped, and she had brought one of her hands up to cover her eyes. There was a long silence, until Grace abruptly grabbed a mug from the table behind her and launched into the far wall, where it smashed into a thousand pieces. Renee took a step back, while the Captain took a step forward. Tears streamed hot and heavy down her face and she whirled on her mother.

"How dare you? How dare you come in here and dismiss everything I worked for, my dreams, my life? How could you think I would walk away from any of this for the sake of money? I didn't want your money or your education when I was 19, and guess what- I still don't. So take your god damn umbrella and get the hell out of my coffee shop".

With that Grace threw Renee her umbrella and swung the door open with a bang, waiting in thick silence for her to leave. She straightened her coat (Chanel if you were wondering) and pursed her lips, clicking to the door. She stopped briefly by her daughter's side; "you know a million girls would kill for what we're trying to give you, and I find it disgusting that you can't even try and be grateful".

"Get the fuck off my property!" A boom of thunder masked the volume that Grace had shouted at, and Renee made herself scarce. The rain was falling hard now, and she was crying hard. It was like the sky felt for her, the spikes of lightning matching her anger. She tried to throw another cup, but this time Steve was prepared and caught it. Good thing as well, because on closer inspection it was an antique tea cup. She picked up another one- she wasn't one for giving up easily- but the all American Man had already crossed the room and grabbed it from her. Setting it down on the table behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her over.

Her face and chest were scarlet with rage and stress, and she was visibly shaking. She kept her eyes firmly pinned to the ground between their feet, and her hands were wrapped around herself in a semi hug. It made his heart hurt- he had only known this girl for a few days but he felt like he had known her for years. To see her in such bad shape was painful. He wrapped his arms around her, and for a while they just listened to the rain pounding down on the New York streets.

* * *

Eventually the rain stopped, and the hurt drained away with it. No words were needed as they slowly separated form their warm embrace. Grace finally lifted her red eyes to Steve's baby blues and gave him a silent thank you, circling around him to behind the counter. From where he was he watched her take out two mugs and start on coffee to fuel the rest of the day. All the soldier could think about as he watched her steam some milk was that he had only known her for about 4 days. 96 hours. It was nothing. He wasn't even sure why he had gone to see her in the hospital. But damn was he glad he did. She was one of the most interesting things to happen to him since he woke up, and he had just helped stop an alien invasion. As his eyes followed her practiced hands, he noticed she was continually flicking her hair out of her way. It was long, reaching just past her waist and the brunette strands were curly. It was also very clearly getting in the way.

The good captain frowned as he realised she wasn't tying it back because of what her mother had said. So in a bold tactic he didn't really think about, he walked behind the counter and took one of her hands. She had just finished pouring the coffee, and didn't say anything but looked up at him quizzically. He slipped her hair tie from her wrist and quietly asked; "May I?" Both of them flushed a deep rose colour, and she had very little to say through her shock. She gave a small nod, and turned around slowly, hardly daring to breath as she felt his hands in her hair. Steve in any other situation might have fumbled but this came surprisingly naturally to him. Bucky had little sisters- 3 of them- and when things were busy after Bucky's dad died, Steve did all he could to help out. That sometimes meant braiding their hair. Or post-serum when he was doing the shows, the girls on tour sometimes needed help with costume or hair before going out on stage. He was no expert, but he knew how to do this. Gently, he threaded her hair into a braid down her back and secured it with the tie he stole from her wrist. It only took a minute, and when he was done he was proud of his handiwork.

He tapped her on the shoulder so she would turn back around, and said; "Your parents are idiots if they don't see what they have in you. You have a beautiful face, and if those are your dad's ears, then suffice to say he has very pretty ears. Don't try and be anything but who you are Grace".

They were less than a foot apart, staring deep into each others eyes. The thought struck her that if this were a rom com they would kiss now...

Then the phone rang. She had never seen a 6'7, 200 lb man jump so high in her life.

* * *

 **I am a lazy human being who never updates and I'm sorry :( A bit of a longer chapter this time, getting a little more heated.**

 **If you could review and let me know if you're enjoying it, how you like the progression so far I would be unbelievably grateful! I have the next few days off so I can update again if people are enjoying it? Obviously if they aren't I wont but let me know!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Beansprout1997 xxx**


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